


Deep inside where nothing's fine

by HashiHimee



Category: Naruto
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sibling Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashiHimee/pseuds/HashiHimee
Summary: Hashirama closed his eyes and swallowed; spit, saliva, blood and tears never leaving his mouth or eyes.It was disgusting and tested bitter and acidic. It tested like pain and regret, sorrow and anger, sadness and ashes.Tobirama’s hand didn’t shake. It never did. Not anymore.Hashirama relished the almost clinical, after all this time, but gentle touch.He breathed slowly. It tested like kindness and sun, like childhood and fear.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Deep inside where nothing's fine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent fic.  
> I had a very bad day yesterday and I needed it out of my system.
> 
> I literally wrote and post it just like that.
> 
> PLEASE, BE MINDFUL OF THE TAGS.
> 
> This fic is dark and sad so if you think you can be triggered don’t read it.
> 
> I send you all my love and support.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> -Hh

Hashirama fucked up.

The beating he got was brutal but the tongue lashing afterwards even worse.

The thing he regretted most was that his brother was there to witness it all. Tobirama was always there to witness it all.

It was his fault. He fucked up. And his father took care of beating him. Then both his parents tore him a new one.

It was humiliating. It always was.

Tobirama did nothing. Hashirama didn't want his brother to do anything.

He took the beating as silently as he could, stifling his whimpers and biting his already broken lip. He didn't even attempt to defend himself.

His mother yelled the whole time.

Not for his father to stop but at Hashirama for fucking up.

His mother wasn't a very kind woman.

Hashirama took the tongue lashing laying on the floor with his eyes closed and trying not to move his fingers. They were probably broken; his father had stepped on his hand.

Hashirama didn't move an inch, even when his parents left.

Hashirama didn’t move an inch, even after his parents left.

It felt like an eternity but he didn’t really care how much time he spent there.

His whole body hurt. His hand, his arms, his chest, his hips, his legs. His face.

His father never hit him on his face other than the first harsh slap. It had broken his lips this time. Hashirama could still feel his father’s hand on his face. Connecting with his cheek. His fingers ghosting over his eye.

It hurt, too.

Hashirama tentatively licked his lips before opening his eye. The one that didn’t hurt.

Tobirama was knelt in front of him, hand hovering over his elbow and face unreadable. His hand wasn’t shaking. It never did. Not anymore.

Hashirama swallowed and closed his eye before taking a deep breath.

It hurt; his ribs were cracked again.

He got on his feet all the same; Tobirama didn’t try to touch him but was ready to catch him should he fall.

Hashirama bit his lips until they reach the bathroom and when he lowered himself on the toilet he just let go, along with a slow and silent exhale.

Tobirama held a first aid kit for him but Hashirama shook his head and his brother kneeled between his legs to gently wipe the blood from his face.

Hashirama closed his eyes and swallowed; spit, saliva, blood and tears never leaving his mouth or eyes.

It was disgusting and tested bitter and acidic. It tested like pain and regret, sorrow and anger, sadness and ashes.

Tobirama’s hand didn’t shake. It never did. Not anymore.

Hashirama relished the almost clinical, after all this time, but gentle touch.

He breathed slowly. It tested like kindness and sun, like childhood and fear.

Hashirama swallowed the words he so desperately wanted to say. He couldn’t say them.

_I want to die._

Tobirama would be fine. Tobirama wasn’t him. Tobirama was almost out of that house.

Hashirama just needed to hold on a little bit longer.

_Hold on to what. Hold on for what._

He didn’t know if he could.

Tobirama prodded at his hand and Hashirama almost chocked.

“We need to go to the hospital.” His brother said with a frown.

Hashirama nodded. He knew. They both did.

“Later.” He said instead.

The house was silent. Only the TV was on, the news on top volume. Hashirama could hear the channel being changed.

He closed his eyes and let his brother try and clean his hand. Blood and water soaked his sweatpants.

Hashirama needed to do laundry anyways.

“Here.” Hashirama opened his eye and just looked at his brother. Tobirama was holding out two painkillers.

Hashirama took the pills and swallowed both dry; along with what was left of his spit, saliva, blood and tears.

He closed his eye and leaned back. His back didn’t hurt. But his shoulder did.

Hashirama just breathed slowly and whispered “I want a smoke.”

His brother said nothing but Hashirama heard him walk out of the bathroom.

They hadn't even turned on the light.

*

Tobirama drove them to the hospital, parked the car and followed him inside. The ER was strangely empty and silent.

Hashirama was led to a cot and they sat side by side in silence.

Hashirama gently bumped their knees.

Tobirama was left waiting when the doctor came to take him to the x-ray room.

His fingers were shattered and his wrist was twisted.

When the doctor asked what happened Hashirama took a small breath and said “I accidentally closed my hand in a door. The door clearly won.”

The doctor nodded like she believed him and Hashirama nodded back. He didn’t believe himself.

He could have said the truth.

He was an adult. Tobirama was legally an adult.

They didn’t need their parents.

They could be both out of that house.

But Tobirama was on his last trimester of college. And he needed their parents’ money.

Hashirama just didn’t make enough to pay his college’s fees.

It was just another trimester.

Then Tobirama would be out of that house. Out of the state, hopefully.

Far away.

And Hashirama could let go.

He just needed to hold on for a bit longer.

It was just another trimester.

Hashirama honestly didn’t know if he would last that long.

_I want to die._

Hashirama took the pills the doctor gave him, signed all the papers and walked out of the ER.

Tobirama followed him silently.

*

Tobirama got his master in philosophy of something and didn’t smile, not even once, the whole day.

It was ok that way; Hashirama smiled enough for them both.

His smile tested like ashes and loss.

They posed for some pictures. The portrait of a perfect little family.

Hashirama’s knee was cracked and walking hurt; Hashirama tried not to limp.

His back and arm were black and blue.

Hashirama smiled at the camera and it tested like bile and disgust.

His father’s hand on his shoulder was heavy.

His mother’s fingers pressed painfully into his side.

Hashirama kept smiling.

Tobirama squeezed his wrist once and Hashirama huffed; his smiled tested like a summer day, then.

*

Hashirama lasted eleven months and seven days.

Tobirama was out of that house. Out of the state. Far away.

Tobirama hadn't talked to their parents in eleven months.

And Hashirama had moved all the money he had made to his brother’s bank account.

He took his phone out of his pocket and rubbed his thumb on the screen.

Hashirama swallowed the lump in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut.

He dialed Tobirama’s number.

His brother picked up but they both stayed silent.

Hashirama matched his breathing to his brother’s.

“Don’t.” Tobirama said and it sounded broken and small.

Hashirama swallowed.

“Please, Hashi, don’t do it.” Tobirama himself sounded broken and small.

Hashirama took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I’m just so tired.” It was a whisper.

“You can come here. We can disappear.”

They stay silent for a while and Hashirama climbed over the railing of the bridge.

“Please.” It sounded like Tobirama was crying.

Hashirama swallowed and smiled. It tested like sadness and freedom.

It tested like sharp glasses and fresh air.

It hurt.

“I miss you.” Hashirama whispered.

Tobirama said nothing but he could hear him cry.

Hi brother was always quiet even while crying.

“I’ll miss you for the rest of my life.” Tobirama sounded like he was eleven once more. The first time Hashirama had been beaten.

Hashirama wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

It was still swollen. It didn’t hurt

He took a deep breath. And then another. And another one.

Tobirama stayed quiet. His brother waited for him.

“I can't anymore, Snowflake. I really am tired.”

Hashirama heard a sob. A muffled one.

“I did all I could.” Hashirama glanced down and blinked.

His brother’s silence was ice cold.

Hashirama closed his eyes and slowly leaned his head back.

“No, you didn’t.”

Hashirama exhaled through his nose saying “No, I didn’t.”

His brother didn’t reply and Hashirama thought about his fluffy white hair.

Like a snowflake.

His little Snowflake.

“There’s a shoebox on top of my closet.”

Hashirama’s hand tightened around his phone.

He swallowed and listened to his brother’s breathing.

“What’s inside?”

Hashirama smirked briefly. It tested like revenge. It tested like sadness.

“Something useful if you’ll even need it.”

He breathed and wiped another small tear.

“Ok.” It sounded sad and understanding. It sounded like tears.

Hashirama nodded and his brother swallowed loudly.

They stayed silent.

Hashirama slowed his breathing and waited for his brother to match him.

The wind picked up slightly and Hashirama relished the cool touch on his bruised face.

_I wish things were different._

“One last smoke?” Tobirama sounded sad and hopeful.

He sound fourteen again. The first time he waited for him out of the hospital gripping a brand new pack of cigarettes.

Hashirama smiled. It tested sad. It tested like memories.

“One last smoke.” He took it out of his pocket along a lighter; it was blue.

Hashirama inhaled deeply and stated clearly “You’re stronger than you think.”

“Don’t.” Tobirama’s voice was sharp. And cold like ice.

Hashirama shook his head.

They stayed silent.

Hashirama threw the butt in the river below. He watched it disappear.

He ran his hand through his hair.

_I wish things were different._

He swallowed and took a deep breath.

His brother swallowed, too.

Hashirama opened his mouth to speak and Tobirama whispered “You can let go.”

It sounded like pain.

Hashirama didn’t wipe his tear.

He glanced down.

Everything was dark.

“Thank you.” He breathed.

Hashirama closed his eyes.

“Goodbye, little Snowflake.”

He let go.

Of the phone, of the railing.

Hashirama took a small breath and smiled.

It tested like ashes and sadness. It tested cold. It tested like freedom. Like loss.

It tested real.

**Author's Note:**

> Like always I’m my own beta, you know the drill.
> 
> #NoBetaWeDieLikeShinobi
> 
> -Hh


End file.
